


Something We Used to Be

by gyruum



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1940s, F/F, Film Noir, Genderswap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:03:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyruum/pseuds/gyruum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Naya doesn't know why Charlie came back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something We Used to Be

Most of the smoke had settled by the late hour, but a thin haze still hung over the room like a persistent fog waiting for morning. Glasses clinked as a few hurried men gathered and piled half-full mugs and abandoned bottles from the dozen tables and far ends of the bar. The noise was magnified across the large, empty room built to be full. A particularly short, old man worked a broom in circles in the furthest corner from the door, slowly crossing past the stage in a deliberate pattern he'd done a thousand times. The bustle of a few stood in stark contrast to the enamored quiet of the hundred mere minutes before.

Still wearing her sleek, black evening gown, Naya emerged from the backstage door by the piano, quickly muttering a polite 'good night' to the lingering accompanist. Her eyes fell upon the lone figure still seated at the bar. She had fully expected this, to find her waiting, though the club had officially closed some twenty minutes ago. Naya exhaled and strode confidently across the wide, wooden floor. Her heels echoed and rose above the clatter of the workers to announce her presence.

As she approached her target – the only other woman with, seemingly, nowhere better to be at one in the morning – Naya examined the details coming clearer into focus in the dim light. The black dress shirt and slacks, recently pressed, offset with white suspenders. A small, steady wisp of smoke from a tin ashtray and a near empty glass of what was most likely scotch. Her blonde hair was shorter than it had been before she'd moved away. It reminded Naya of a boy she'd known briefly in school and teased with flirtation pointlessly, like so many others. Long strands brushed forward across her head but kept high off the neck and falling just short of her ears. A fresh cut, as well, judging from the clean neckline just above her collar. The look paired quite nicely with the suit, Naya thought.

Naya took the final steps toward her, slowing, but the woman did not react. Naya stood behind her for a moment and waited. The bustle of work continued around them, the smoke slowly rose from the tin, but neither woman moved. Then, Naya stepped forward into the edge of the visitor's personal space, leaning to press her body slightly against the black shirt – not enough so that anyone looking would notice, but enough to elicit a response. Perhaps. She received none. She could smell the woman's hair now, mere inches away, as well as the familiar traces of cologne along her collar. Naya could see the skinny, white tie knotted under the woman's smooth jawline, motionless, her elbow resting on the bar.

Admitting defeat in her attempt at a confident arrival, she spoke with a frustrated edge that covered her sadness, poorly.

"You shouldn't have come."

Naya wasn't sure she meant it, but she let her words linger in the air before sliding past the woman to sit on the nearest stool. Charlie still did not look at her, and instead took the last sip of her drink and raised the glass, "Two more, please."

"Coming right up," the bartender replied. Naya wondered how much Charlie had paid him to serve after hours but did not ask.

It had been a long three years. After Charlie left, Naya had taken too long -- in her opinion -- to move on, to pick up the pieces of her shattered dignity and try to convince herself that loving Charlie had been a mistake. And now here she was, back in town and sitting, detached yet defiant, between Naya and a restful sleep.

"What do you want?" Naya asked, her body turning to face her quiet company. She watched the reflection of spotlights on liquor bottles dance in the flecks of Charlie's hazel eyes. From her perfectly falling bangs across her forehead to her polished cufflinks, Charlie had clearly wanted to make a strong impression. She looked good. Naya didn't repeat her question; she hadn't necessarily expected an answer. Charlie looked down now, one arm bent on the bar and the other lazily playing with an unlit cigarette. Naya had always hated the habit but admitted it was, at times, undeniably sexy. Charlie rolled the cigarette between her thumb and forefinger several times before placing it at the edge of her mouth and reaching in her shirt pocket for a Zippo lighter.

"Love For Sale," Charlie said with a hint of interest, referring to the final song in Naya's set that evening, in what seemed like an attempt to change the subject. Charlie had always had opinions on Naya's singing. Becoming a lounge singer had been an easy step from the bedroom singing Naya had done for her years before. It was funny, Naya thought – now, singing for a hundred patrons a night, she felt more distanced from her audience than when it numbered one. Like for all they could watch, they weren't actually seeing her. Charlie had always looked Naya in the eye when she sang, a large step above the absent murmur of drunken well-to-dos escaping their wives for a few hours.

Charlie lit her cigarette and inhaled deeply, returning the lighter to its pocket. "Good choice." She thanked the bartender as he brought the two scotches over and slid a glass toward Naya.

Naya's body language shifted as she realized Charlie wasn't here to fight, though she still refused to look at her. Naya reached for the scotch and took a long, slow sip, watching Charlie work the cigarette in her thin, faded lips.

"I opened with 'We'll Be Together Again,'" Naya offered. That had always been one of their favorites.

Charlie took another long drag, put down the cigarette, and sipped her drink casually. "No, you didn't."

With the clink of the glass on the bar, Charlie met Naya's eyes. The hazel now appeared more golden in the dim light of the club, but Naya felt their familiar pull all the same. Charlie looked amazing. Shadows draped across her cheekbones, outlining so many places Naya had once covered in soft kisses. The tie suited her, it always had, and Naya knew Charlie had never needed the support of suspenders. She had worn them simply to drive Naya crazy; it wasn't the first time.

Charlie seemed to be taking in her first look at Naya in years with a purpose, tracing her eyes along the curls of her dark hair, the smooth lines of her neck, the way her dress hugged her curves. Charlie made no attempts to hide where she was looking, but then, she never did. Her mouth was slightly open as if debating what to say. She turned back to face her drink and reached for another drag before adding, "You sang that other Cole Porter, the one I hate."

It was true, and now Naya knew that Charlie had in fact been there for her whole set. "The crowd likes it," she replied nonchalantly, a friendly jest.

"The crowd likes _you_ ," Charlie said, exhaling another breath of smoke. "Fuck the song."

The old man sweeping the floor had made his way toward them now, and he moved aside nearby stools in continuation of his task. The spotlights above the stage turned off, leaving only the faint glow above the tables and behind the bar. The bartender called out reminders to the young men busing tables.

Naya swirled the ice in her drink, still wondering what the hell Charlie was doing here in the first place. She'd left Naya for that hussy in the next town over, the one who made weird faces when she sang (though she had one hell of a voice, Naya admitted). It hadn't mattered that Naya always feared she'd never be able to keep someone like Charlie around, it still cut her to the bone when Charlie left. Still no ring on her hand, Naya noted, but that didn't mean much. And now here she was to rip the old wound open and play with her heart again. Or possibly just insult her song selections. Naya hated letting anyone shake her confidence, and Charlie was the only person who ever could.

"Fine, don't tell me what you're doing here. But I don't have anything to say to you." Naya tried to sound strong, convincing, ambivalent. She had always been a much better singer than actress.

Charlie turned to look at Naya and held her stare in the din. "I'm not here to talk." She looked at Naya as if to say, what makes you think I would have come back for that?

Naya searched Charlie's face for clues and finished her drink in one long sip, dropping it loudly on the bar and walking off. The click of her heels sounded behind her as she crossed the room, leaving a loud trail for any pursuers to follow.

The bartender slinked over and watched Naya storm off, offering a sympathetic, "Women," to Charlie before clearing the glasses. Charlie slipped a large bill on the bar and headed in the direction of the fading sound.

Pushing the door of the women's room open, Charlie found Naya standing in front of the mirror, touching up her lipstick. Naya noticed Charlie had loosened her tie ever so slightly. The room was otherwise empty, and mostly clean. The light was brighter here, and neither woman could hide her intentions in shadows anymore. Charlie met Naya's eyes in the mirror as she approached her. She stopped just behind Naya and gently grabbed Naya's hair, weaving the thick locks in her fingers. Pulling back slightly, never breaking eye contact, Charlie ran her tongue slowly along the now exposed skin beneath Naya's left ear. Naya felt her body clench in response. Here was a woman who literally walked in off the street and had Naya's vulnerability on display in mere minutes. Some people will always have that power over you, she thought.

Charlie wrapped her free arm around Naya's waist and pressed her hips into Naya's lower back. A small gasp escaped Naya's open mouth as Charlie moved. Her arms were stronger than Naya remembered. Naya's head fought involuntarily against the pull of her hair, which only made Charlie pull harder. Charlie's appearance was complemented by a presence not seen but felt by Naya as Charlie pushed harder against her. Naya remembered this thrill all too well and reflected on her sadness when other lovers after Charlie had not chosen to pack. The hand on Naya's stomach pulled her in closer and inched toward her breast as her body moved as one with Charlie's. Their voices echoed in the small room, steaming the mirror, but not enough so Charlie couldn't see Naya's face reacting to her drive. Charlie was now kissing Naya's ear and neck forcefully, one hand firmly in the dark locks of hair for leverage. Naya grabbed hold of the counter with both hands to keep her standing, though she knew Charlie had too strong a hold on her to let her fall. Naya let a few loose words slip as she rocked against Charlie's body, but Charlie said nothing. She watched the faint traces of sweat form on Naya's neck, the small beads of tears edge from her closed eyes, studying them intently and adjusting the speed of her thrusting.

Charlie maintained a steady rhythm with her hips and now focused on her tongue's movements across Naya's neck. Naya turned to hungrily meet her lips, longing for control and knowing she would never have it. Charlie kissed her hard, squeezing Naya's body with all of hers. Naya felt the rush through her spine and moaned into the kiss; no one else made her feel so alive, not then, not now. Charlie kissed her harder, reaching both hands around to Naya's ass. With one swift move, she lifted Naya toward the wall a few feet away. Naya felt the slam against her back and the instant force of Charlie's thigh pressing between her legs as they kissed. Before she could react, Charlie found Naya's hands and raised them over her head, pinning them to the wall. Naya gave only a little fight, enough to show Charlie she wanted her to win.

Charlie's free hand roamed Naya's body as they kissed, tracing along her shoulder, dancing across her breasts, and pressing firmly into her nipple. Charlie remembered how to work her just right, to bring her to the edge of what she thought she could handle and then take her two steps beyond. In between deep kisses and short gasps, Naya was begging Charlie to fuck her. _"Please."_

Charlie pushed harder with her thigh as she strengthened the grip on Naya's bound wrists, reminding Naya who was in charge. She released the kiss and hovered teasingly above Naya's lips, lightly running her tongue along the top one, then the bottom one, as her free hand slowly pulled up Naya's dress. Misdirection was a magician's true skill, after all. Naya shook slightly, her body whimpering with wanting as Charlie's hand brushed daringly along her thigh. Charlie gently took Naya's lip in her teeth, daring Naya to move while she worked. Charlie smiled as she discovered Naya was suspiciously without anything on under her dress. Her thumb found Naya's clit and circled it slowly, and she kissed Naya hard to stifle the moaning as her speed increased. The harder Charlie pressed, the harder Naya kissed her. Their tongues moved slowly in contrast to the speed of Charlie's fingers. The last three painful years were suddenly erased from Naya's memory, as if it had never mattered in the first place. They were back in their old house again, discovering each other again and again every night for the first time. The strong feel of Charlie's callused fingers on her skin; the eventual give of her strength to Charlie's unrelenting touch.

Naya's dress was to her waist now, and Charlie pulled Naya's leg up to wrap around her back, granting her access. She hungrily worked Naya's clit faster now, fighting hard to keep Naya's hands bound and her mouth occupied. Cupping the base of her palm against Naya's clit, Charlie drove her two middle fingers deep into the warm wetness and rocked her hand back and forth at full strength. Gasping for breath, she released Naya's kiss and held her face against Naya's cheek, panting hard into her ear as she worked.

"Fuck…yes… _god_ …" Naya moaned, eyes clenched as she tried to breathe. She'd thought she would never be fucked like this again after Charlie left, and she damn near thought it was going to be the end of her now. She rocked with Charlie's hand and gave herself to the full force of their joined motion. She inhaled the smell of Charlie's sweat mingling with her cologne, smoke, and traces of scotch on her breath. It was intoxicating. As her moans became higher and faster, Charlie released Naya's hands and covered her mouth instead, holding back the sounds. Not because anyone might overhear, but because the power drove her over the edge. Naya screamed as she came.

***********************************

The following weekend, Naya sang the same songs to the same crowded room and same cheering applause, but something, however insignificant, was different. She left her dressing room at quarter to one and walked across the wide wooden floor, heels sounding off the walls and the empty bar.

The bartender offered her a good night and then added, "Oh hey, who was that you were drinking with the other night? Good tipper."

Naya paused. "Just some guy I used to know."

She pushed the heavy door and stepped into the drizzling rain, adding a hum to the already percussive night sky.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written originally as a Charlie/Naya fic as a gift for a friend. I switched it for awhile to be Charlie/Santana, because I know RPF is inherently creepy. But I've changed it back, because this is how it's meant to be read.


End file.
